#LongWeekalmostend

I spoke with the nice detective for about an hour.  I felt a lump and a tightness in my throat.  I had assumed the tightness was just a nerve thing.  He had just dropped an atomic bomb on my life that made me question and doubt everything I had believed in.  I thought I had put this nightmare behind me, but he had enough evidence to prove that I had not.  In fact, he had enough evidence to give me a brand new bunch of nightmares.

We parted ways.  I went to Boston the next afternoon to clear out a shambler infestation inside and around one of the prestigious hospitals of the area.  By the time I got back to my hotel room, my throat hurt. 

I went home and stopped in our medical unit.  Doctor Light ran all the tests and come to the conclusion that my pre-existing situation had somehow damaged my thyroid.  By Friday night, my throat was pretty uncomfortable.  It didn’t necessarily hurt; but it was so swollen and uncomfortable that I began to spray it with spray ice. 

The next day was the trick or treat radio cookout.  I had a wonderful day full of great food, amazing people, and lots of booze-for everyone but me anyway.  I was outrageously uncomfortable. 

Sunday me and Tiny dealt with a small pocket of berserker vampires.  I was almost vampire chow.  I was so completely distracted and off my game that I probably almost shot Tiny as many times as I hit a vampire.  I went home and with the help of a bunch of Ativan and a little bit of rum, slept through the rest of the day.

I don’t even remember what Monday consisted of.  I left long enough to ride shotgun with Round Trip Jones in a case that he was working on, but I think I slept most of the time.  By the time we pulled into the garage, I knew I had to go to the hospital.  My throat looked awful and felt worse.  I was light headed. 

That’s when I got my second surprise of the weekend-I arrived home to find someone had horribly vandalized my apartment.  They destroyed hundreds of dollars of blu rays, both of my lap tops and a special collection of comics I had been collecting over the last few years.  But most terribly still whoever these monsters were, they tried to kill my fish.  The tank looked like it was full of milk.  Whatever they had dumped in there was reacting horribly with the sustaining chemicals in the water.  It smelled like vodka.  I ended up doing what I needed to do to make sure Frankenstein the betta was ok (ok as I could any way).  I didn’t want to leave; anyone that knows me knows that I was more concerned with my little buddy’s well-being my own.  My special lady friend pretty much forced me to go, and it’s a good thing for the minority of people who like me, a bad thing for the majority of people who don’t (and I’m undecided).  I had no idea how sick I was.